Delicious Ambiguity
by Darth Breezy
Summary: Three views on a Passing - Luke, Han and OC's.
1. Chapter 1

_**Because I could not stop for Death,  
He kindly stopped for me.**_

A/N – Here's another little story, if you'd like it – Once again taking place in my Post Jedi AU. A little challenge set forth from my good friend Golden_Jedi aka Louie...

**Delicious Ambiguity** by **DarthBreezy**

***

_If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster. -__ Isaac Asimov_

***

Han took another long pull on his beer, watching the evening crowd wander into the small bar. Leia had chased him away from their shared apartment despite the late hour, and despite his initial outward protests, he was actually _glad_ for the time alone. Too many changes in such a short time made him jittery anyway, and soon enough, there would be even more. Leia's twins, due within the month, his friend Luke's newfound family and his total embrace of the Jedi _religion_[/]…

Han _hated_ funerals. To be completely honest, he would have spent the afternoon peeling mynocks off of the _Falcon's_ hull – hells, even scraping off mynock _droppings_ would have been preferable to attending a memorial service of any kind, but this one had been special. Different…

For a start, there had been _two_ services. The second service had been a small State funeral, where the synthetic diamond had been placed in the Corellian Sanctuary. Only a few assembled there knew that the cremated remains had only been personal effects, but the first…The first, an unofficial a small private service, where many of Representative Canaille's personal effects had been cremated, (for there had been no _body_,) which in and of itself wasn't unusual but this had been a Jedi funeral.

Luke had returned from Sullust – all be it for only a few days – before the service, (something else Han found hard to comprehend, how Luke could actually leave his pregnant wife at all) and had spent most of the time in quiet contemplation, no longer the brash young idealistic farm-boy he had once been, but a full fledged Jedi Master.

A _Jedi Master_…

Another drink as he waved the bartender over for another round.

_Too much change…_ he thought, draining the bottle. _Too. Damn. Much…._

**

He had been nearly ten years old (by his own estimation) when the Jedi had fallen out of favor with the Republic, but even then, the _Jedi_ had been viewed as more of a mythic cult, mostly unseen and the subject of wild speculation and rumors more than an actual presence in the Galaxy. After that, he had been too busy trying just to stay alive to even care about them. He had grown up, made his own way and been _happy_ damn it! The one day, the Kid and the old man had walked into that cantina in Mos Eisley, he'd met the Princess and everything had changed…

Again…

_I aint in it for your Rebellion Sister…_

_That's two you owe me Kid…_

_Do you take this woman?_

_Han, we're going to have a baby!_

_I want you to meet my wife Aubé, my daughter, Pemberian…_

The 'Kid', with kids of his own – hell – _he_ was going to be a father himself in a few short weeks… but the Kid had changed the most.

_A Jedi Master…_ he thought, barely acknowledging the Tw'ilek waitress who brought him his drink. It's like he's a whole different man now. The old Luke wouldn't have been separated from his friends with out the help of a tractor beam, and here he was blasting off every other week, leaving his own wife and child – and the unborn child – behind, only to return for a few short days for a damn funeral… That damned… Jedi funeral…

Perhaps the family had done most of it's grieving in private before hand, perhaps it was as Luke had tried to explain before hand that as Healers and Jedi, they viewed death a little… _differently…_

Perhaps it was because the Jedi _were_ a whacked out cult of wizards after all…

"Excuse me, General," a soft lilting voice interrupted his thoughts. "Madam Solo said I would find you here…"

Han looked up to see a tall blond young man standing before him – Toa, the young Healer that was also Luke's_… brother – in – law?_

The young man dipped his head slightly. "If that is what you wish to call it, yes, I am."

In an instant, Han was on his feet. "Leia? Is something wrong with Leia?" he hissed, momentarily repressing the embarrassment of knowing the Healer had read his thoughts. "Why didn't she com me?"

Now Han felt his legs give way as the Healer raised his hands, palms down with a sitting gesture, the rage he initially felt trickled away along with his strength to stand.

"There is nothing to be concerned about," Toa murmured with a barely perceptible gesture, and for an instant, Han could actually _see_ the wave of calm spread throughout the rest of the bar, rippling as it went. To only Han, he said, "She is fine, General. She told me that if she called you on the com, you would return before she could say that she was only off to bed, and if you did not believe me, to mention the holo-chess table. That mentioning that would assure you that she was completely lucid…" The young Healer arched and inquisitive eyebrow. "Does that make sense to you, General?"

Han relaxed back into his chair, visibly relieved, yet under enough self control to prevent the blush rising to his cheeks. "Yeah, she _would_ say that," he muttered, settling back into his drink. "Chewie still there?"

Another slight nod. "Yes, he is still there. My Kay-sa is with his mother, young Pemberian is in her bed, and Master Skywalker is… he is comforting his wife." Now the Healer's eyes lowered slightly. "Master Canaille was a good man, he will be missed."

In that instant, Han understood. He knew exactly how the young man felt – a part of the family and yet… Just like him. Jedi or no, Toa was feeling the mixed blessing and the curse of being the new kid, no matter how long you've been around…

"Let me buy you a drink," Han said with a wry smile. "Maybe you can explain a few things…"

"I would like that," Toa replied, a genuine smile. "And I will try, General…"

"Just two things, Kid…" Han interrupted him, even as he gestured for the bartender to bring them a fresh round. "One, no more _Jedi whammies_, OK?"

A quick bob of the head in reply. "I apologize," Toa murmured. "No more, as you say, _whammies…"_

"Second, you start calling me, Han…"

"Yes… Sir… I mean, _Han_" Toa stumbled over the words.

_Stang! He's just a kid!_ Han thought. _Probably younger than Luke…_

"I am nearly twenty four standard years old…" Toa replied without thinking, then lowered his eyes, shamefaced. "I guess that is a Jedi whammy, is it not?"

"I'll let it go, this time," Han said, the easy magnanimousness of drink chasing away his earlier thoughts, at least for the moment. "I guess _Sir_ will be OK for now."

A second glass of beer arrived at the table, and Toa lowered his head momentarily. In an instant, Han's initial concerns about the Jedi returned, and his face darkened.

"A prayer for the dead," Toa said softly. "And that was not with Jedi perception – it shows in your face, Mr. Solo. You do not trust the Jedi?"

"I trust you guys enough with my wife!" Han said a little more hotly than he intended, causing the other patrons to glance their way. "It's not like there's a whole lot of you around, any way…"

"And one less, tonight…" Toa sighed as Han shifted uncomfortably in the chair across from him. "But Master Luke hopes that within a generation, there will be many more…"

"And maybe his kid won't want to _be_ a Jedi!"

Toa shrugged, and took a drink. "Perhaps… but Jedi are _found_ not _forced_ into the life…"

"Luke sure was…" Han snapped, downing the last of his beer quickly and signaling for another. Anything to steer the conversation away from _death_…

"Master Skywalker _chose_ to follow the path, just as his sister has _not,_" Toa reminded him gently. "As did I, and Aubé did not…"

"Not at first, any way," Han conceded. "But it seems _Nails_ has joined the club too!"

"Sometimes, a being resists their destiny," Toa began, but Han cut him off with a barking laugh.

"But a moment ago, you said that becoming a Jedi was a matter of choice!" Han waved his beer around for emphasis, spilling some onto the table. "So which is it?"

"A question for the ages," Toa replied mildly, refusing to rise to the bait. "Master Canaille always seemed to doubt himself, and yet in the end, he became one with the Force as Master Kampher always knew he would…"

_There is was again, raising its ugly head like the specter of the Empire itself… Death._

Not if Han could help it.

"How did you get caught up in all that?" Han asked abruptly. "Which was it? Choice or destiny?"

"Perhaps… both…" Toa replied, allowing the conversation to be directed by Han. "Master Canaille found me on a slaver's ship when I was younger. Or perhaps it was Master Kampher, or even Kay'sa himself. I do not remember which for sure. Apparently, I was half mad and one of the only survivors." Now it was Toa's turn to colour. "I had many… talents, but no control. I owe them my life…" He sipped at his beer thoughtfully. "It matters not, now," he said at last. "I have found my place…"

"Yeah…" Han agreed quietly. He began to look for a chrono, and cursed when he saw the lateness of the hour. "Stang! I've gotta get back," he muttered as he rose. "Give you a ride someplace, Kid?"

"No," Toa said softly. "I will allow Kay'sa this time for now…" As Han began to take his leave, Toa gently touched his arm. "Sir?"

"What is it, Kid?"

"Why are you afraid of death?"

Han emitted another barking laugh, this time it seemed forced, even to himself. He put his hand on the young Healer's shoulder, and looked him straight in the eye. "I aint afraid of _death_, Kid – seen it to many times for that! Getting killed by my angry wife… now _that's _what scares me…"

**

_I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.__ - Gilda Radner_


	2. Chapter 2

_If our friendship depends on things like space and time, then when we finally overcome space and time, we've destroyed our own brotherhood! But overcome space, and all we have left is Here. Overcome time, and all we have left is Now. And in the middle of Here and Now, don't you think that we might see each other once or twice? –_**_Richard Bach_**

**_**  
_**

_The night before…._

It wasn't the movement that awoke Luke, but the fact that she was no longer _there._

He lay there, waiting in the darkness to see if she would return, knowing in his heart that she was really waiting for him.

_Go to her, Luke,_ the gentle lilt of Schurke Canaille whispered in her ear. _She needs you._ A slight chuckle_. After all, sometimes it's more important to be a friend and not just a lover, rather than a Jedi Master…_

**

He found her standing at the window, gazing sightlessly over the city and out towards the ruins of the Jedi Temple which even at this late hour, was a hive of reconstruction. The money – nearly half a _billion_ Credits that had been hidden away from the Empire by his late father-in-law on behalf of his friend _Anakin_ – were in part responsible for that, but in the depths of her despair, Aubé seemed to neither know or care.

"Bé?" Luke murmured gently, not expecting a reply. He padded across the room, footsteps as soft as feather falls until he stood directly behind her, a hand reaching out, but not touching her. Not yet. "Aubé…"

Still looking out beyond, only a slight quaver in her voice betrayed the tears that hadn't fallen. "He came to Pem… that night. After, I mean… My father had chased us – Kay, Toa and myself – away early in the day. He said it was ghoulish… a _death watch._ I heard giggling, and voices… At first I thought Pem was just talking to one of the other Masters…"

Luke only stood there, waiting silently as Aubé suddenly rounded on him her eyes blazed with a mixture of hurt and anger.

"She does that, a lot, _especially when you're not here!_" she threw herself at Luke, her fist pounding on his chest. "Damn you for leaving us! Damn you _both!"_

Luke caught her, as bursting into sobs, she fell into his arms. "I'm sorry!" she wept. "It's _not_ you I'm angry at…"

"It's all right, Bé…" Luke crooned softly, cradling her close. "I'm here… I always am… even when I'm far away."

Gently, he lowered her to the floor, holding her close while she wept, and in that moment, he truly envied her.

_That's right, Bé, he thought to himself as he tenderly stroked her hair. Go ahead and grieve. When I lost my loved ones – Aunt Beru, Uncle Owen… Ben… Yoda. Even my own father and the son I never knew – at first there was no time, and then I became 'Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master', and there was no place for it… _

Soon enough, the storm passed, and sobs gave way to soft hitches.

"I… I'm… I'm sorry, Luke" Aubé croaked at last from the safety of his arms. "N-n-not very _Jedi-like_, am I?"

Luke smiled, and wiped away an errant tear with his real hand. "That's all right, Bé," he smiled wryly. "I've had a lot more practice." With a grunt, he rose, and started as Aubé gripped her belly, a flurry of kicking ensuing as if to remind them both that there was still life between them. "Are you all right?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

"Yes, I think so," Aubé replied with a grumble. "But there's no sense in trying to go to sleep for a while – once he gets going, it's like a battalion of cadets on parade through my insides!" She sighed. "I'm going to look like hell tomorrow…"

"You'll look beautiful," Luke admonished her gently, even as he scooped her up into his arms. "Come on, let's go sit on the couch for a little while and see if he calms down."

"I _can_ walk you know!"

"Save your energy," Luke replied, nuzzling her ear. "You'll sleep better for it, I promise."

Within a few moments, Luke had placed Aubé on the couch, and after checking on their sleeping daughter, returned with a warm bantha – wool blanket to spread over the two of them. With one arm wrapped protectively over her shoulders, and the other hand resting gently on her active, swollen belly, Luke pulled Aubé into a safe embrace.

"Tell me something about your father, Bé," he murmured. "Tell me something that I don't know about him."

"You should ask my mother," Aubé sighed, closing her eyes. "She said that back in the day, he was a real piece of work – a Corellian to the core…"

"Even as a Jedi?"

"_Especially_ as a Jedi," Aubé giggled despite herself. "Mother said that Pappa's Master despaired of him, even after he was Knighted. I guess he and _your_ father used to sneak out of the Temple and race swoops down in the lower levels…"

Now it was Luke's turn to be surprised. "Anakin Skywalker – rode swoop bikes? I knew he was a pilot – a good one from what I've heard…"

Aubé nodded sleepily. "Yeah... I guess he taught Pappa and a few others a few tricks – not all of them, Pappa said that Anakin kept most of the best maneuvers to himself, but still…"

For nearly an hour, Aubé shared memories of her father, many of them involving Anakin Skywalker, until her voice grew tired and she began to fade. Thankfully, even the baby had calmed down enough that Luke suggested that perhaps it would be a good time for all of them to try to get some sleep.

"I think I can, now, Luke," Aubé mumbled into his chest, no longer protesting the idea of being carried around. "Thank you…"

"Thank _you_, Bé, " Luke replied softly.

"For what?"

_For Pem, and Tamallin, and our new son, and for giving me my father back… he thought, For showing me how our loved ones never really leave us, how they live as long as we remember them,_

He said none of this aloud, however, but instead, he only kissed his wife, and whispered one word in her ear.

_Everything…_

**

But all endings are also beginnings. We just don't know it at the time. – [b]**Mitch Albom**, [/b]_The Five People You Meet In Heaven_


	3. Chapter 3

_Death ends a life, not a relationship. _– **Morrie Schwartz**, _Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom_

_**_

_The Night after…_

_Corellian Ambassador's residence, Coruscant _

The guests were gone, the children and grandchildren were gone, and most importantly, he was gone.

_Kiss me good night, not goodbye_… Those had been Schurke's last words to her, and so she had, thinking that it would be so easy, come the morning, even though she knew he would no longer be there. _Kiss me, good night_…

Kampher wandered around the empty apartment, absently setting things to rights. Perhaps, as much to 'rights' as she could. Schurke was gone, and as far as Kam was concerned, nothing in her life would ever be really right again.

A Jedi does not feel anger… the mantra rose to the fore-front of her thoughts even as she removed a glass from his chair that some inconsiderate soul had left on the arm. A Jedi does not know…

"Oh to the Seven Hells with what a _Jedi_ knows not, feels not!" Kam cried out in exasperation, collapsing into her own accustomed chair across from _his_, her face in her hands, her voice fading into a whisper. "Schurke, I miss you so…"

**

She didn't know how long she sat there, and possibly, Kam had even dozed a little, but little by little, she felt a warmth begin to brush over her features – a _familiar_ warmth.

"Hello, Schurke," Kam murmured, not opening her eyes. "If this is a dream, I don't want to wake just yet…"

"It's not a dream, Kam," Schurke replied, his voice soft and yet slightly distant. "I'm… I'm here."

"And if I open my eyes?"

"I'll _still_ be here…"

She opened her eyes, and in the low light of evening, Schurke Canaille _could_ have been sitting there, once again comfortably at ease in his chair. It was only the thought that he was so much younger, and so much less _substantial_, that belied this fact.

"Boo!" he said with a wry smile. "Hello my love…"

"You came back," Kam whispered softly. "Schurke, you came back to me…"

"I've never left," he corrected her gently, shaking his head. "Not yet, anyway…"

"You can't stay?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, for she already knew the answer.

"Not like this…" Schurke leaned forward, almost close enough to touch her. "You know that. It would be…. Cheating…"

The tears that she had put in a box in her heart at last began to fall freely. "I don't want you to go, Schurke," she sighed. "I need you!"

A ghostly finger went to brush away the tear, and pulled away as he realized that he _couldn't_. "I can't even _touch_ you Kam," he sighed. "What good is that?"

"But I _felt_ it!" Kampher countered, placing her hand where his fingers had been. "It feels so _warm…_

"I'll only be in the next room, so to speak, Kam…" Schurke murmured. "I just wanted one more chance to say – "

"I love you," Kam finished for him. "Just… I love you…"

Schurke nodded; already his spectral form was beginning to fade. "It's almost time, Kam…"

Kampher closed her eyes, and leaned back into her chair. "You'll wait for me?"

"Of course! I waited for you for all those years, after all… a few more won't kill me…"

Kampher smiled, despite herself. "Go on, you old Pirate," she sighed. "But one more thing before you go?"

If Kam had opened her eyes, she would have only seen the barest outline of her beloved husband, who looked anxious. "Only if I can…" he whispered.

With out opening her eyes, Kam replied softly. "Kiss me, _goodnight_."

***

"_True love stories never have endings"_

Richard Bach


End file.
